Pulse
by Slightly Sinister Sinestra
Summary: Seto Kaiba and Tea Gardner do a tango. For real. As in the dance. Read it and find out! Warning: extremely sensual.


Disclaimer: I highly doubt the writers would permit this. But we do.

Sisters one and two having fun. Warning: serious sensual content. But if anyone has seen Moulin Rouge's 'Tango de Roxanne', you'll know that all tangos are incredibly sensual, and a touch sexual. NOT A LEMON! We don't do those. Have fun!

Pulse

The beat pounded its way through the floor, jolting every sense in a way nothing else could. The very feeling of having your heart beating in time to music was intoxicating. To lose yourself in such power was a thrill no drug could match.

Well, it would be if Yugi would stop standing on her foot.

Tea winced. Yugi was sweet, a wonderful person, her best friend, but the guy _really_ couldn't dance. The small, stocky frame was too short, too bulky, to clumsy to move in the way music wanted. And the poor guy was much too nervous to lose himself to the beat. She really needed to get away before she landed herself on crutches. But she didn't want to hurt Yugi's feelings. She couldn't do that, not after all the kindness he'd shown her. _So stick it out until the end of this dance. And _then_ get away._ Good plan, but would her feet last?

The last cord was struck, sounding out its mournful siren wail, signaling the end of the dance. She sighed in relief. Then shot a small smile at Yugi, and told him she wanted a drink. She'd see him soon. The boy nodded, and strode away into the vast crowd, wondering if he'd done something wrong.

Tea sighed again. She really wanted to dance, but for that she needed a partner. And no-one looked available. Everyone else seemed to have found someone. Hell, even Yugi had found someone, ie Rebecca, and was enjoying the moment more.Oh yeah, totally ironic, friendship cheerleader left out on the sidelines with no partner. The one dancer in the group the only one not out on the floor showing the school her talent. Talk about a wasted opportunity.

She _needed_ to dance. The music pulsed again, the beginning strains of tango. Hopefully, she scanned the crowd again, and saw him. Well, of course he'd be out on the sidelines. His angular frame was braced against the wall, and his blue eyes were sweeping the crowd in a condescending manner. He looked completely bored, not to mention irritated. But the situation suited him, the music suited him. Strong and bold for the most part, with interludes of soft, sad beats for other parts, the small soft cry sounding lost in the power of the rest of the song.

Empowered by the music, and her desperate need to flow with it, she approached him. He caught the movement, and turned to watch as she threaded her way towards him, his face impassive. Without bothering to ask, she grasped his arm and pulled him towards the dance floor. She got barely two paces before he pulled them up. 'Gardner ...' he warned.

She spun. 'Dance with me!' She clasped his hands. Incomprehension flickered in his eyes, then mild amusement. He stepped back from her. Disappointment rose. Not him too. Was she to spend the night on the sidelines? But he didn't retreat. Instead, he swept a smooth, cultured bow. Impressive, both for his grace, and his ability to preform the manouver at all, given his height. When he rose, his mouth twitched slightly in what you could call ... a smile.

The music swelled, announcing the end of the introduction, and the beginnings of the dance phase. Tea stood poised, waiting for the beat to take her, for her partner to sweep her into it. And he did. Movements fluid, almost predatory, he caught her up. His arms felt strong, possesive, the way the dance demanded. Caught by surprise, her own movements were mechanical, but once she realised that this partner wouldn't falter, she abandoned herself to the music.

They paced the length of the floor, moving as the tango dictated, their twined figures cutting a swath through the other dancers like a pair of sharks through a school of fish, with hunters' grace. Tea was barely conscious of the stunned looks and dropping jaws that surrounded them. She only knew the joy of the dance, the sheer sensual pleasure of two bodies moving as one, of two hearts beating the same rhythm, if only for this brief space of time. Her eyes raised to his. She barely knew him, but here, that wasn't important. Here, her body knew his, and the dance knew them both. They moved to its dictates, and anything beyond was irrelevant.

Her blood beat as the tempo increased. The other couples had retreated, in respect or awe or, perhaps, sheer horror, and they had the entire sweep of the dance floor to themselves. He upped the charge, leading them in steps that were somewhere between an angel's glide, and a panther's prowl, an exotic combination of etheral grace and sensual predatory power. His eyes, blue chips of marble, had heated to ice suns, alive with passion. She knew that feeling. She felt it every time she surrendered to the rhythm, every time the music transported her to another world, of light and sound and glorious movement. And now she had a partner to travel with her.

Too fast, too soon, the tempo dropped. The music was fading, the dance ending. Everything in her cried out in protest, desperate not to lose this feeling, this raw passion and power. But all dances have to end. As the instruments fell silent, she was left in a warm circle of arms, staring at her partner with that strange intimacy that only dancers could know, the knowledge that for a brief while they had lived and breathed and moved as one being. Her blood cooled, her breathing calmed, and she saw him again for who he was.

Seto Kaiba stared down at her, a curious warmth in those usually dispassionate eyes. He loosed her, a glimmer of a smile on his lips, and gave a gentlemanly bow. With that gesture, she knew that he truly understood. The passion they shared belonged to the dance alone, and was no less for it. In the throes of the music, the senses overruled the mind. It was awesome. It was powerful, all the more so for the sharing of it. But it was over, and they were themselves, their surface selves, once more. She had her friends to explain to, and he had a couple dozen reporters to fight off. The dance had ended.

Watching him stride purposefully away, she couldn't help but hope that they could do this again some time. A dance is all the better with a partner, and one of such skill, and more importantly _feeling,_ for it could not be let fade.

What do you know? Seto Kaiba can dance! What do you think? R&R? Cough it up! Do we do okay romance, or should we stick to angst? TELL!


End file.
